Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire
by F Marrese
Summary: Harry escapes Malfoy Manor only to find himself with much bigger problems to fry..
1. Chapter 1

**1**

Harry leapt over the bewildered branches of a fallen tree to stagger desperately until he collapsed amidst a dry mound of golden leaves on the autumn forest floor.

A calm moment passed, in which ensued only the light twittering of birds and the odd hoot of an owl. Then Harry heaved himself up, panting, onto his feet, and turned to verify that he hadn't been followed or seen from the Manor. Then, with a final deep breath, he forced himself to continue hurriedly down through the sloping trees.

At last, he had escaped. With Lucius' influence tucked safely away in Azkaban, and Narcissa's cold and silent disregard hidden away in one of the far, closed-off wings of Malfoy Manor, indifferent to her loitering son, Harry had finally convinced Draco to free him of his imprisonment.

And so, with his wand finally at hand, accompanied by a shrunken bag of cold chicken wings and bread, Harry had fled the manor and sped without a backward glance across fields and streams and forests, to where he now sat panting with his back to a tree trunk, as unaware of his whereabouts as he would have been had he suddenly been apparated to another country.

He tossed the chicken bone away and curled up, tired enough to drift off into a peaceful slumber. He was awoken by a gruff, surprised and somewhat amused voice.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here: The Saviour of the wizarding world lost near Malfoy's grounds. What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?"

Harry felt his jaw drop incredulously. Of all the places to meet a werewolf, _this_ particular werewolf, it had to be in the middle of a bloody forest in Merlin-knew-where, the only nearby sanctuary being Malfoy Manor. And, predictably, the sun was beginning to descend.

He gulped and gripped his knees, which were pulled up to his chest with his cloak wrapped around him.

The man was stood there with a feral smirk. He was tall; he had to be at least six feet, and had narrowed amber eyes that watched Harry searchingly. His straggly greying hair hung about his shoulders, and the remains of his dirty clothes were in tatters. He looked in worse condition that Harry.

He began to approach and Harry scrambled to his feet. A second later they were only a foot or two apart.

"What do you want?" Harry asked waveringly, raising his chin. He was _not_ going to be scared off by some werewolf with cannibalistic tendencies. Even if said werewolf was much bigger, taller and stronger looking than him, along with sharp teeth that were revealed in the man's feral grin.

"No need to put on a brave front, cub. I could smell your fear miles away."

Harry scowled at him, unnerved. He gripped his wand in his pocket, knowing that anything he cast would immediately alert Narcissa and in all likelihood bring hundreds of Death Eaters down on them.

Fenrir's suspicious eyes landed on the place where Harry's wand was.

"Don't go casting spells, boy. Won't do either of us any good."

"What do you mean?" Harry said, disconcertedly aware, with a quick glance at the man's large muscled thighs, that he had no chance of out-running him.

"Neither of us wants to be caught by the Dark Lord. I suggest you leave your stick alone."

Harry frowned. "You're allied with Voldemort," he accused. "Your pack is."

"Not anymore," came the gruff reply. "Not that it's any of your business." He took a large step forward, so that they were standing inches apart. Harry's breath hitched.

"He's gathering forces with the sole intention of getting rid of me. I think that sort of makes it my business," he snarled.

Greyback grinned. "Now why would anyone want to get rid of a lovely young pup like yourself?" He took a firm grip of Harry's chin.

Harry scowled fiercely and bought his hands up to push the man away. Greyback merely laughed infuriatingly at his weak attempts.

"Come, pup, I'm tired of talking."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Greyback leered at him. And then suddenly, he was gone. Harry blinked, grip tightening on his wand. What was the man up to? He could feel cold fear settling in on him. Shakily, he turned and ran.

A minute hadn't passed before he knew he was being chased. He ran as fast as he could, which with a Seeker's agility was quite fast. At least, Harry thought so, until something suddenly rammed into his back and sent him flying, only to land on his face in the leaves and dirt.

Harry groaned. Greyback laughed amusedly. Harry attempted to sit up but strong hands pushed him down again. He struggled aimlessly for a minute until Greyback hissed his annoyance and turned Harry roughly over. He pushed Harry's thighs apart and lay down on top of him, leaning up on his elbows above Harry's face.

Harry's eyes widened. His breath hitched. Truthfully, he was terrified, and hated to admit it. Even Voldemort had never frightened him this much. Heart thumping wildly, he took in the man's darkening pupils and nasty smile.

"You're terribly fun to play with, cub," Greyback said, grabbing Harry's flailing wrists with one hand and holding them above his head.

He lowered his face to Harry's neck and stopped suddenly. Harry became very still, unsure of what the man was doing. Greyback then _sniffed_ him. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and the man pushed his body down to make sure Harry couldn't move an inch.

He then took a long sniff of Harry's neck again. This was followed by a small lap of his tongue. Harry shuddered.

Greyback leant back to look with narrow eyes into Harry's face. "Impossible," he muttered.

"What?" Harry blurted, his curiosity getting the better of him. He was ignored. Greyback was sniffing and licking at his neck again. The man groaned.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, panicking. He received a long wet lap of rough tongue across his cheek as an answer.

Harry scowled. "Stop that!" But Greyback was groaning again. And then he thrust forwards, and Harry could feel it: a large, hard _thing_ was digging into his hip, and he wasn't so naïve as to not realize that the man was tremendously aroused.

Harry didn't know if he was more disgusted, freaked out or petrified. Greyback seemed to enjoy smelling Harry's fear, though; he continued to lick and inhale and coat Harry in saliva. Harry soon took up his struggle again, not liking the ministrations one bit.

But Greyback only gave a delighted groan at Harry's wiggling, and thrust once more. A second later he grabbed Harry's hips and turned him over so that he was lying with his face in the dirt.

In vain Harry struggled, but in the end he collapsed, much to Greyback's enjoyment. The man grabbed Harry's thighs and pulled them apart. Harry began to shake uncontrollably. He had an idea of what the heavy man was going to do. It bought up a swirl of fear in his guts.

Suddenly the man stopped. Harry felt him sit up, and managed to wiggle free of the man's loosened grip.

"Quiet, puppy," Greyback rumbled. "They're coming."

Harry staggered backwards, falling on his behind with a wince. "Who's coming?" he demanded fearfully, hoping Narcissa hadn't already alerted Voldemort. It had taken long enough to escape, damnit.

Greyback leapt to his feet and had Harry up and over his shoulder in seconds.

"What are you doing?" Harry exclaimed. "Put me down. _Argh_!"

They were moving through the forest, in the direction opposite the Manor, faster than Harry had ever been able to move. He didn't bother struggling now, tired and weak and hoping he would slip from the man's strong grip at some point.

A minute later he was dropped onto the floor. Harry groaned and lay there, gazing tiredly up at the trees. He was trapped. He should have known he wouldn't be able to escape. Greyback was bound to hand him over to the Death Eaters in exchange for something.

What the werewolf would want, Harry couldn't guess.

Seconds passed before he was hauled up again. Harry closed his eyes. He could feel Greyback pushing his way through branches and bushes, twigs snapping beneath his feet. He then stopped, and Harry opened his eyes.

They were by a cave. A small dark cave, with large wild bushes concealing the entrance, but it was a cave nevertheless. Greyback pushed through and knelt down, putting Harry gently on the stone floor and sitting beside him. The cave was low enough that even Harry wouldn't be able to stand up straight. It wasn't deep, however; it only went about two metres back.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around his legs. Apparently Greyback wanted to be as far away from the Death Eaters as he did. However, the cold was beginning to seep in through his cloak and pushed thoughts of Death Eaters out of his mind. Harry shivered. He was jolted by surprise when he was grabbed firmly and put in the werewolf's lap.

Greyback hushed him when he struggled and made him sit still. Then Harry heard it; the crackling steps of people walking carelessly through crispy leaves, accompanied by noisy arguing voices. He became motionless and gripped the arm that wound around his waist.

"Merlin, we'll never catch him at this rate," one of the trekkers complained. "For all we know, he's been eaten by one of those _creatures_." The last word was spat venomously; Harry suspected they were talking of werewolves.

"Shut up," another snapped. "We have to keep looking. I've never seen the Dark Lord so angry. Potter is going to pay for this."

Harry shivered. This time it wasn't from the cold.

"How long have we been trudging through this stupid forest?"

"About twenty minutes. Now shut up and keep looking. He has to be around here somewhere."

"Fine," the other muttered. They were getting nearer the cave. "How many others are looking?"

"Hundreds. The Dark Lord is obsessed with getting the boy back. Merlin, if I find him…"

"You won't touch him. Those were the orders. To stun him, signal the Lord and take him back to the Manor."

"And what if Greyback has him? Or one of his insane followers? What will we do then?"

"We'll have to stun the traitors as well."

They were passing the cave. Harry released a silent breath.

"I still don't understand how he escaped."

"Look, we'll just have to…"

Harry blocked their voices out, his relief so great that he went completely limp against Greyback.

"Quiet, puppy," the man said softly. "Wait a while."

They waited. When it was clear the Death Eaters weren't returning any time soon, Greyback let Harry crawl away from him to sit with his back against the cave wall.

Harry ignored the man's observing amber eyes and stared stonily at the floor. He didn't know what was better; being stuck in the Manor for months or being trapped with Fenrir Greyback in a cold cave with Death Eaters prowling on the loose.

This time when Harry fled, it was with the sole intention of getting as far away from both the Manor and the cave as possible. For five minutes he ran through the forest, the setting sun leaving the trees dark and shadowy. It was with a surprised intake of breath that he suddenly skidded out from the trees onto a muddy bank of an enormous lake.

Startled, Harry stopped to stare, wide-eyed, at the dazzling sight. The lake was an engaging deep blue, and stretched far, its slippery banks lined with brown trees and behind it, in the far distance, sat a giant orange setting sun that left the sky with a tinge of pink and yellow.

He had little time to marvel at the view, for, with a startled yelp, he found himself pinned down on his back in the mud by a very aggravated looking Greyback.

"What did I tell you about staying still, _Puppy_?!"

Harry shivered and closed his eyes. He was extremely tired, having spent the last few nights whispering persuasively to Draco. He was cold and he knew he had no chance of absconding the man's inhuman strength and speed.

"You worried me," the man growled, turning Harry roughly onto his back and revealing far too-long incisors. "I thought you might have gotten caught by one of the bastards."

Harry's eyes snapped open, perplexed. "You were _worried_?" he said incredulously. "What, afraid they'd robbed you of your dinner?"

Greyback growled again, lying down on Harry so that they were in the same position as before.

"Don't anger me. I go out to hunt some food for you and this is how you repay me."

"I don't understand want you want," Harry complained, feeling defeatist all of a sudden.

"I want your submission, pup. Then I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"Submission?" Harry was confused. He wished the man, who he had now decided was moderately insane, would simply explain himself.

"Surely you learnt _something_ from Lupin? I'm an alpha wolf, young Harry_._" It was said mockingly, and Harry hated him all the more.

"How has that got anything to do with me?" he demanded. "Merlin, will you let me sit up? I won't try to run or anything."

Greyback smirked. "As if you would get anywhere if you did." Nevertheless he remained where he was, apparently deriving pleasure from Harry squirming beneath him.

Harry scowled at him fiercely, his fear having lessened somewhat. It didn't take a genius to guess that the man didn't intend to kill him, and the chance to pass him over to the Death Eaters had gone. But he didn't understand Greyback at all.

"Well?" Greyback said, and then let out an exasperated sound at Harry's puzzled expression. "You must know the at least basic fundamentals of mating."

Harry scowled. "I don't understand what this has got to do with me. I'm pretty sure _I'm_ not a wolf."

Greyback sighed patiently; giving Harry what he must have thought was a consoling lick to his cheek.

"_Stop_ that!" Harry exclaimed, and attempted to wipe the saliva off his cheek onto his shoulder.

Greyback grinned at him. "Anyway, you are not, unfortunately, a werewolf, which is something that can soon be rectified. But you _are_ my mate. This means-"

"I know what it means. Wait. What? Your _mate_?"

Greyback appeared to be tiring of the conversation, because he returned to his licking, and ignored Harry's loud protests.

"Look, stop, _stop_!"

Greyback stopped. "Yes?"

"Can we… resolve this somewhere else? Like the cave? Where it's slightly warmer."

Greyback raised an eyebrow. "So that you can try to flee again?"

"I wasn't fleeing. I was uh… thirsty."

"And so you sniffed your way to the nearest lake."

"Yes. That's exactly it. Look, -" he yelped when he was heaved over the amused man's shoulder again.

"I _can _walk," he insisted irritably.

"You're too slow," came the reply.

Harry came close to sulking. He was dumped on the floor when they reached the cage and sought out his abandoned bag of chicken wings.

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?" he demanded in between mouthfuls, attempting to ignore Greyback's amused eyes.

The werewolf shrugged and leaned back against the wall, arms casually bent behind his head and legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. "Until I can get the pack back together. No chance of an ambush until then."

"An ambush?"

Greyback grunted in agreement.

"Why? On who?"

"You have a very curious nature."

Harry scowled. "Just give me some answers. Why are you here? Why didn't you hand me over to the Death Eaters?"

Greyback leered at him.

Harry scowled. "Fine." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Apparently if he didn't annoy the werewolf, he'd be safe from the Death Eaters for a while. Although he'd have to endure some of Greyback's strange… behaviour. And perhaps during this supposed ambush he could make an escape. Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up at Greyback with a smile.

"Want some?" he offered, holding out the half-eaten chicken wing.

Within seconds he was pinned on his back. Harry wouldn't have minded so much if he didn't still have a bit of chicken stuck in his throat, resulting in him having a small coughing fit. From centimetres above, Greyback eyed him with what appeared to be reluctant amusement.

"Thanks for that," Harry gasped, recovering.

"You shouldn't have offered yourself so willingly."

"I wasn'-" a hand came over his mouth.

"Quiet, pup," Greyback said roughly. They lay there for a moment in silence; Greyback as still as an alert hare, Harry beginning to shiver from the creeping cold.

It was a false alarm. Or so Harry decided as his captor suddenly released him and sat up.

"The dark is coming," Greyback said.

"Naturally," Harry muttered, and then stopped still. "When is the full moon?" he asked slowly.

Greyback turned to him with a feral grin. "Tonight," he said.

Harry jerked backwards, staring at Greyback in horror. "What am I going to do?" he demanded, more to himself than the contemplating wolf. Harry thread his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. What was he going to _do_?

"There's nothing you can do, Pup," Greyback said, without a hint of sympathy.

Harry dug his fingers into his palms so hard they bled. He glared fiercely. "So, what? I simply sit here while you turn into a monster and bite me?"

Greyback narrowed his eyes. He didn't move, continuing to silently watch Harry in his infuriating way.

"Well?" Harry snapped, verging on hysterical. And he had a right to be. He couldn't become a werewolf. He just couldn't. It would complicate things far too much; how could he get back in touch with his friends, round up and destroy Horcruxes and fight Death Eaters when he had to worry about taking Wolfsbane every month as well? Honestly, this wasn't what bothered Harry. The fact that he would have to sit around and wait to be bitten dawned on him. He knew straight away that he had no chance of escape; running would probably harm himself more than if he sat and waited.

He looked up at Greyback, who was watching his mental struggle. "What are you thinking?" Harry demanded, deciding that the hated werewolf should be gloating and sneering, if not assaulting him again.

Greyback actually sighed. "Look, Potter. Whether I want it or not, tonight you will be bitten."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Greyback continued.

"No, listen," he demanded. "My pack is spread out all over this forest. You would be better off being bitten by me than one of them. And by running off now you will only get caught by Snakeman's followers. Do you understand? Besides, now that I know you're my mate I can't let you be turned by one of my pack."

Harry wrapped his hands around his legs and stared at the floor. They way he saw it, he was completely and utterly doomed. The cold seemed insignificant at this stage, and he didn't notice at first when Greyback moved towards him.

Harry flinched when he was dragged back onto the man's lap. He shivered when Greyback shoved his nose in Harry's hair, inhaling. He gave Harry's cheek what Harry supposed he thought was a comforting lick.

"What shall I do?" Harry repeated eventually.

"Don't run, under any circumstance. As you are my mate I won't kill you, but by running I might happen to hurt you more than necessary."

"Great," Harry muttered, turning and burying his face in the man's chest. If this was the only form of comfort he could get before being turned into a werewolf, then so be it.

"Stay in the cave," Greyback warned.

Harry shivered. It was getting dark, and Greyback had left the cave half an hour ago, even though the transformation wouldn't take place for at least another hour. Harry moved as far back in the cave as possible, where it was low enough that he had to lie down and try to ignore the odd drip from the ceiling.

Waiting to be bitten was terrorizing, and Harry reflected afterwards that the waiting was worse than the entire incident itself. But for now, he lay there thinking of his friends, thinking of Remus. What would the man think of him? Oh, Harry was aware that Remus would support him all the way, but he would be so disappointed that his best friend's son had become like him: an outcast. Harry would have to contact Remus at some point, somehow. If Greyback let him. Everything seemed to come down to Greyback. It was completely unlikely that he would simply let Harry go after this. Did this mean that Harry was now a part of Greyback's pack? Even if for some miraculous reason he didn't get bitten, he was still Greyback's mate.

As these thoughts played in Harry's mind, he soon perceived that it was almost completely dark. He raised a hand but could barely see it. That was when he heard it: a howl. It was nearby and getting closer. Another very distant howl answered it, and then another, until it seemed like Harry was completely surrounded by werewolves.

Harry couldn't prevent himself from shaking. Despite Snape's sneering acknowledgment of Harry's Gryffindor bravery, Harry was unable to even think of having courage at this moment. His body seemed to freeze up; he stared directly above into nothing.

Another howl sounded, this time directly near the entrance to the cave. Harry slowed his breathing as much as possible. He forced his hand away from the pocket with his wand, knowing that even grabbing his wand could get him killed. He remained as he was when he heard the first click of claws on the cave floor.

A low grow resonated through the cave, and Harry swallowed, looking out of the corner of his eye to see two glowing amber eyes in the darkness. They were watching him.

The werewolf – Harry hoped it was Greyback and not one of the others - entered further, standing about a metre away from Harry, his hackles raised, looking ready to pounce. Harry fixed his gaze on the darkness above, hoping that his submissive position didn't induce the werewolf to attack him. A moment passed in which the werewolf remained where he was, releasing another low growl, and then he came closer. Harry could see his enormous outline. The werewolf's ears were drawn back, suspicious. It came forward, teeth bared, and stood with his salivating jaws inches above Harry's neck, eyes glowing, emitting a low warning growl. Harry released a whimper, and it suddenly withdrew. Seeming to have decided that Harry was submissive enough, the werewolf began to sniff him. First his neck, then along his face and into his hair.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut when the werewolf began to lick his cheeks.

The werewolf licked his way down Harry's neck and then growled when he found a barrier between his tongue and the rest of Harry's body. Without harming Harry, the werewolf managed to rip Harry's shirt with his teeth, revealing Harrys' chest to the cold. Trying to move as little as possible, Harry manoeuvred his now-tattered shirt off and away from him, wanting to leave the werewolf pleased enough that it didn't hurt Harry more than necessary. It's rough tongue continued its way down along Harry's torso. It gave one of Harry's nipples a rough swipe and he yelped in surprise. A low growl was emitted when the werewolf became acquainted with Harry's jeans, and Harry hurriedly undertook the task of kicking of his jeans while making as little movement as possible.

Harry bit his lip hard enough to release blood when Greyback's tongue suddenly swiped across his cock. To Harry's utter dismay the werewolf's continued attention to his cock made it gradually harden. His right hand gripping his shirt, his left his hair, Harry looked up to see the werewolf move towards Harry's nether regions, where it gave an uncertain lick, before theoretically diving in. Harry released a sob. This was not happening. He was not being licked by a werewolf, by Greyback, down _there, _and he was most certainly not enjoying it. This latter was true: Harry was not enjoying the experience, but his cock was. Despite the cold, it twitched when the werewolf nudged Harry's thighs apart with his wet nose, giving Greyback more room. The werewolf then nudged Harry's hip, ordering him to turn over. Harry shakily did so, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. Damp dirt and small stones embedded themselves in his knees and hands. He leant his head on his arm, his behind in the air, thinking that this had to be the most humiliating position ever.

And then the heavy creature was mounting him with a pleased growl, its forelegs sliding in behind Harry's arms, its back legs either side of Harry's. They seemed to fit together like a puzzle, and Harry pushed this thought out of his head and tried to think of Quidditch. He tried to imagine playing Quidditch in the Weasleys back garden, but his thoughts turned to wondering what they would think if they saw him now. Harry shuddered. And then the werewolf was entering him with a hard, leaking cock and Harry was in more pain than he had ever been in his life. He released a howl worthy of a wolf, and the werewolf howled with him, but for a different reason. Harry tried to think about anything except what was happening, but the pain was too much as the werewolf began to thrust. It probably saw this experience as mating. Harry could feel a trail of blood slide down his inner left thigh. He buried his face in his arms and couldn't hold in the whimpers and gasps of pain. It seemed to go on forever; combined with the cold and the bruises adorning Harry's arms and legs from the ground, Harry could only think that this was worse than being caught by the Death Eaters. He should have stayed at the Manor.

Finally it was over; the werewolf released a noisy triumphant howl and released himself into Harry. Harry sobbed, collapsing on the ground as the wolf clambered off him. He lay there shaking, and jerked when he felt a warm tongue lapping at his behind. Humiliated, even though Greyback wouldn't remember in the morning, and in pain, Harry put his head in his folded arms, letting the werewolf clean the blood and semen away, and turning around when he received a nudge, not releasing a sound. The wolf licked his face, his neck, his cheeks, and sniffed his hair. Then Greyback turned and loped out of the cave, releasing a long, satisfied howl outside, and left, probably off to hunt.

Harry hadn't been bitten. He had been raped and infected instead. It was with this ultimate realisation that he fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Five significant realisations came to Harry as he managed to pry open his sticky eyes, one of which was the fact that he could, despite not wearing his glasses, see the roof of the now-bright cave very clearly. Secondly, his now being a werewolf was accompanied by a feeling of emptiness which made him think that the news hadn't sunk in properly yet. Thirdly, Harry was in a lot of pain, with bruises adorning his arms and legs and soreness in his lower regions; next, both he and the large, warm man draped over him were equally naked; finally, Harry knew that, fixed between Malfoy Manor, stray werewolves, Death Eaters and Greyback, he had little means of escape.

He was also aware that, had he the means, he wouldn't be able to handle lycanthropy on top of his other problems single-handedly. He had to remain Greyback's prisoner, at the very least until he could learn enough to attempt to escape. Meanwhile, although Greyback left much to be desired as a companion, he was a good, if vicious, form of protection against the Death Eaters.

The werewolf currently lay with an arm flung over Harry's chest and his nose in Harry's hair, with one muscled thigh wedged in between the two of Harry's. He was in a deep slumber, assumably thanks to the painful transformation. Harry shuddered at the thought of his first full moon, and the torment that would accompany it. Somehow he _had _to get Wolfsbane. He realised then that the Death Eaters would be looking for him with a new vigour now that Greyback's pack were weakened and likely hiding.

He also acknowledged that Greyback really needed to wash. He stank of blood and sweat and his matted greasy greying hair fell in Harry's face.

Harry felt weak and extremely tired. He had no idea what time it was. Greyback shifted in his sleep, and a moment later dozily raised his head. He stared down at Harry, tired amber eyes narrowed, catching his gaze. A slow grin formed on his face, accompanied by abnormally sharp teeth. This was the last Harry saw before he shifted uncomfortably and the pain surged, pulling him into darkness.

Harry awoke to discover that he had been moved. He lay outside on a bed of dry leaves. Despite the frostiness of October the sun was out, glaring upon him in rays through the trees and making the remaining leaves glow gold and orange.

Moving anytime soon was not on Harry's list of intentions, so he remained where he was and looked around. Greyback was nowhere to be seen. Harry then concentrated on his improved senses. He could pick up the smallest, most distant sounds; a squirrel cracking a nut open with its teeth a few hundred yards away; the startled dart of a rabbit down into its burrow at the rustle of trees; the light tread of a deer not far from the lake. Harry could see none of these things, and the fact that he could distinguish each of them was a thrill. Being able to see, and not just see through normal human vision like he could beforehand with his glasses, but perceive thousands of vivid colours and shades of blues, greens, reds – so much colour and beauty - was not something Harry could have ever even imagined as a human.

Reluctantly he began to realise what Greyback meant when he had heard him say that lycanthropy was a gift, not a curse. But the problems that accompanied the 'gift' made Harry still inclined to believe it was the latter.

Greyback chose that time to appear. He appeared to have been running; he came over to Harry with bright eyes and a wary grin. "Fancy meeting you here," he said with his gruff, bark-like voice.

Harry didn't know what to say. What does one possibly say to a werewolf who, the night before, raped and infected one? Instead he chose to stare blankly up at the man, resenting his tiredness and weakness and the pain.

Greyback knelt down beside him. He brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes with what Harry considered a claw rather than a nail. Harry blinked at the movement.

"We have to move," the werewolf said, serious. He took hold of Harry firmly under the arms and quickly lifted him. Harry let out a gasp of pain at being forced to stand up, but it was too much and he collapsed to his knees, staring at the ground.

Greyback said irritably, "Get up, boy. What's wrong with you? The Death Eaters are on their way."

"I – I can't," Harry said, gripping his knees.

"Why?" Greyback demanded, coming down so that he was eye-level with Harry.

"It hurts," Harry said weakly. He began to see black spots. This was worst than being near Voldemort. Harry was beginning to feel very hot. Besides, Greyback might be comfortable in his own nudity but Harry wasn't planning on running around naked.

"You have a fever," Greyback growled. "That's all. You weren't bitten."

Harry looked up at him in shock. "But – I'm a werewolf," he said, confused.

Greyback stared at him for a moment and then let out a bark of laughter. "You don't become a wolf just by enduring my company, Pup. Surely you learnt _something_ from Lupin?"

Harry understood then. Greyback, on seeing Harry was not bleeding and had not been bitten, decided that Harry had not been infected.

Harry shook his head. "You raped me," he whispered. The man's eyes widened.

"Did I now," he said quietly. He then grinned. "Well, isn't that just lovely. You _are _a wolf then. My wolf."

Harry gave him a disgusted look. "I can't move," he snapped, some of his usual fervour returning to him.

"You don't have much choice, unless you truly desire death."

Harry snapped, "Leave me here, then. I'd rather be with the Death Eaters than with _you_."

Greyback grew angry. "Don't be stupid, boy. They'd take you to the Dark Lord and you'd be killed in an instant."

"His name is Voldemort," Harry muttered.

"Potter, I'm tired. I can't carry you far," Greyback admitted.

Harry looked at him incredulously. "I don't _want_ you to carry me. Hide me if you so desperately want to get away, because I can't come with you."

"I have to meet my pack," Greyback said.

"Then meet them," Harry said. "I sure as hell don't want to."

He let out a surprised cry when Greyback grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him up again. "Puppy, you go too far. Despite submitting to me under the full moon." He pulled Harry against him, so that Harry's nose bumped against his chest. "You had better learn some respect soon, or I may get rather annoyed and give you a _bite_."

Harry shuddered. He wriggled, feeling claustrophobic. "Get off," he demanded. He turned his head and bit the hand on his shoulder.

Greyback growled. He put his full weight on Harry, who collapsed, sending a flock of dry brown leaves flying. He managed to shift so that he wasn't lying awkwardly on his arm, and coughed at the dirt that got into his throat. Breathing heavily, Harry became very still, wondering what Greyback was waiting for. He turned his head to the side so that he didn't have leaves and twigs poking in his eyes, which he closed tiredly.

"I need to go back to Malfoy Manor," Harry said weakly, wishing dearly that he could sleep.

"Why?" Greyback demanded. He moved off Harry to sit beside him, looking alert and staring in the direction he had run from.

"I can't stay with you," Harry said, sounding almost hysterical. He was too tired to move. "I need clothes. I can't run around nude like this. And food. You can't expect me to eat things raw. I may be a werewolf now but I'm not going to suddenly have all your cannibalistic tendencies." He said bitterly, "And your pack. What are they going to think? I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Don't tell me they won't have a problem with it, after being united with Voldemort. They'll want to hand me over just so he'll stop attacking."

"No. You're one of us now."

Harry began to shake. He stifled a sob. He was in a lot of pain, and caught in between werewolves and Death Eaters. Greyback pushed him over so that he was lying on his back. Harry turned his head so he didn't have to look at the naked man. Then Greyback lifted him.

"Put me down," Harry moaned as the werewolf moved swiftly through the trees.

"Be quiet. They are already on our tail. We've stalled long enough."

"Can't you just hide me and go ahead," Harry whispered weakly.

"No. They'll track you."

Harry stayed silent. Greyback was extremely strong, but as he had admitted, his transformation had made him weak and tired. After ten minutes of steady running he began to tire and slow down.

Harry struggled. "Put me down," he said. "I'll run."

"You can't," Greyback said angrily.

"I can," argued Harry. "Just stop."

Greyback did, but probably not because Harry had said so. He slowed down and came to a halt by a large oak, which he almost gently dropped Harry by.

Licking his dry lips, Harry pushed himself up, wincing as he looked at the bruises adorning his arms and legs. His forehead felt prickly and hot; he pushed his hair out of the way and tried to clear his dry throat.

"How far is it?" he asked Greyback, who was examining him while he caught his breath.

"Another mile or so," came the gruff reply. Greyback stood and took hold of Harry's arm, beginning to move once again. They moved at a fairly fast pace and Harry managed to keep up for a while.

"I won't last for long," he gasped eventually, struggling to keep to Greyback's pace.

"You have to," Greyback growled. "You can rest when we get there. The pack means safety." Suddenly he stopped, causing Harry to slam straight into his back. "Ow," Harry muttered, and Greyback put a hand over his mouth. He was once again alert, head turning in multiple directions as he picked up distant sounds. Then Harry thought he could hear it. There were voices. But they weren't coming from behind.

"Ahead," Greyback growled.

"We're trapped?" Harry said timidly, releasing himself from Greyback's grip.

"I'm too weak to fight," Greyback growled. "You chose a very inconvenient time to make your escape," he accused, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "The Dark Lord's followers will find it easier to deal with us when we are tired from the transformation."

"Too true," an unfamiliar voice called out, and then a masked Death Eater stepped through the trees.

No matter how hard Harry looked, he could find no indication that it was a Death Eater he knew. Greyback growled low. "Rabastan," he snarled after a moment of obscene sniffing.

"Thank you, Potter," the Rabastan said jeeringly. "You chose a very opportune time to run away. Right when this lot turned traitors."

Harry frowned but chose to keep his mouth shut. His ears strained to hear the others; nonetheless he knew they were coming. A moment later, two other masked Death Eaters emerged, wands brandished.

"You found him," one of them breathed.

"Yes," Rabastan said. "Signal the Dark Lord."

Before either of them could raise a wand, Greyback charged forward with a growl, throwing himself with inhuman strength at the Rabastan.

"Stun him!" one of the Death Eaters yelled, but Rabastan was already casting a quick '_Stupefy!'_ that, from what Harry could see, hit Greyback directly in the chest. The werewolf staggered a moment, unbalanced, and then launched himself at Rabastan. However, it was too late. The one on the right must have already muttered whatever it was that signalled Voldemort, for they were soon surrounded by several loud _CRACKS_. The Death Eaters had arrived.

Panicking, Harry tried to make a run for it, but a laughing Death Eater grabbed him and held a wand to the side of Harry's head. Harry swore and grabbed the Death Eaters wrist, biting as viciously as possibly until the Death Eater released him with a furious shout.

Harry scrambled away, wand clenched in his fist as he ducked a spell and leapt behind a large tree, glad of the fuss behind him. Greyback was tearing at a Death Eater, still unrestrained and causing a panic. However, three Death Eaters gained on Harry, who became increasingly aware that he wouldn't be able to outrun them. Suddenly there was a stream of distant roars and calls, and Harry was filled with hope for the first time since he left Malfoy Manor.

"The werewolves!" one of the Death Eaters yelled. From his place behind the large tree Harry could see two Death Eaters trying to surround him, the others forming a line facing the direction of Greyback's pack. Greyback was now unconscious, but Harry knew he would gain consciousness soon.

One thing that Harry did notice was that Voldemort was nowhere in sight. Why had he not come when signalled? Perhaps he was waiting. Or punishing Narcissa. Harry didn't have much of a problem with the latter.

"Just surrender, Potter," one of the Death Eaters cornering him snapped. "It will make everyone's lives a great deal easier."

"All the more reason not to," Harry snapped back. "_Expelliarmus!" _

The Death Eater blocked his spell easily, but Harry was a step ahead, pointing his wand towards the wilderness of dead bushes among the trees and casting "_Incendio_!" with enough force that a wild fire quickly grew.

One of the Death Eaters cursed, backing away from the fire while Harry ducked another disarming spell. "Put it out!" one of them was yelling.

Harry cast the same spell at the surrounding trees just as the first fire was put out. And then again, until the fires roared up and began to merge. The Death Eaters were panicking, and Harry, extremely lucky to still have his wand, moved fast enough that the spells being fired couldn't hit him. But he was weak, and managed to cast a last '_Adfero caligas!' _just as a swarm of supposed werewolves leapt shouting battle cries through the trees and onto the Death Eaters. Harry's spell caused a large mist to spread around him, thanks to which he managed to flee without being noticed.

"_Aguamenti!" _The Death Eaters were screaming at the fire as Harry sped away from the trees as fast as his rapidly weakening legs could carry him.

Harry knew what he had to do next, considering his legs' quick refusal to move. With a deep breath, mentally thanking Hermione for forcing him to learn this spell, he did the correct wave and, pointing his wand directly at his forehead, said, _'vocumnavitas!'_

A burst of short-living energy filled him, which Harry knew would leave him feeling even weaker afterwards. But it was enough to keep him running for as long as possible back in the direction of the likely abandoned Manor. He would have to force Draco into helping him again.

With Greyback's help the day before, Harry had travelled a good few miles from the Malfoy abode, but his confidence remained despite the long distance that his weak legs would have to carry him.

At length he skidded once more out onto the bank of the large lake, now feeling unnerved from the silence. Listening intently for a moment, Harry reassured himself that there were no Death Eaters followed him, before he plunged his tired body into the freezing lake.

Gasping at the cold, Harry swiftly rubbed away the dirt from his body and matted hair, and moved shivering out of the water and onto the muddy bank. He couldn't wait to get some clothes once more. However, thoughts of clothes simply made him think of how far he had to go, and the coldness and tiredness caused Harry to feel somewhat less than alive as he nakedly trudged on.

The enormous Manor finally came into view and he could almost have wept for joy had he not already been cold enough as it was. Breaking into a run, he leapt over the small stream that separated the forest from the Malfoy grounds, then sped along a muddy track in the long grass and approached the large stone wall where he slipped through a tall austere gate into the gardens. Passing monotonous bushes and stone statues and benches, and a large flowing fountain in the shape of a snarling grindylow, Harry exceeded another gate and ran down the cobbled path that would take him near the greenhouses. Once he was close enough to the building to make his plan work, he crouched down next the large glass greenhouse and tentatively called, 'Dobby!'

A moment passed that made Harry think his plan had not worked. Dobby often came when Harry called him, but perhaps the Malfoy wards had been adjusted to keep him out. But then a soft _Pop _erased those thoughts.

"Dobby!" Harry exclaimed, relieved.

"Harry Potter sir!" the elf cried excitedly, tugging at his dirty cloth. Then he suddenly looked around and his eyes widened as it dawned on him where they were.

"What is Harry Potter doing?! If Master finds out-"

"Dobby," Harry interrupted. "I need your help. Please don't ask questions yet. All I can say right now is that I've escaped and there are Death Eaters after me in the forest. I need clothes and food, and I need to get a message to Remus Lupin. Can you help me?"

Eyes wide, Dobby suddenly stood straight and said, "Of course, Harry Potter sir! Harry Potter is the same size as Master Draco who has many, many clothes and won't notice if they is missing, and Dobby knows the kitchens like the back of his hands."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Dobby," he said appreciatively.

"What is Harry Potter wanting to say to Remus Lupin?" Dobby said.

Harry hesitated. "Tell him … Tell him I'm trapped on Malfoy's grounds, and I have a new problem. Tell him that I have to stay with Fenrir Greyback, and that the werewolves are no longer on Voldemort's side. And…" he paused, acknowledging Dobby's horror-stricken expression. "Ask him if he can somehow get the Wolfsbane potion to me," he whispered finally, staring down at his wand.

"Of – of course," Dobby said tearfully. "Harry Potter is a werewolf?"

"Yes, Dobby," Harry muttered. "I have to go back and find Greyback's pack soon. There's nothing else I can do, and I'm not sure what Voldemort's doing."

"Dobby knows Harry Potter is brave and clever and will survive," Dobby said, voice suddenly firm. "Dobby will go and find him clothes and food now, and then he will find Remus Lupin. Professor Albus Dumbledore will know where to find him."

Harry jerked his head up. "Dumbledore?" he said, startled.

Dobby's features softened. "Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait is in his office. Professor McGonagall often talks to him. She will be Headmistress now, when Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts for his seventh year."

Harry frowned. He wasn't too sure there would be a seventh year for him to be had. He shook his head, disregarding that thought.

"Thank you, Dobby," he said, grateful.

"Anything for Harry Potter sir!" the elf said, and disappeared with a _Pop._

Wondering how long it would take Dobby to sneak through Draco's rooms, Harry crawled in between the bushes that surrounded the greenhouse and curled up, shivering. His bruises had now turned a yellowy-green colour. Harry prodded one and winced, finding that the pain hadn't lessened with the colour. Cautiously he attempted to wipe the dirt and grit from his body, mainly on his calves and feet. And then he waited.

Dobby returned about ten minutes later with a large bundle. "Harry Potter sir," he said as Harry stood up quickly. "First put on these clothes." Initially he handed Harry some black underwear and socks, then dark denims and a deep green silk shirt. "Rich prat," Harry muttered, slipping them on and shivering with the feel of silk against his body. He wondered at Draco's choice of muggle clothes. Then Dobby passed him an expensive azure cloak with silver vine patterns bordering the edges. Harry released a breath of admiration as he swung it around his shoulders. It was nice to wear good clothes that fit, for once. He then slipped on the dark shoes that Dobby handed him.

"What's this?" he said. Dobby had presented him with some kind of dark green leather belt which had a very thin scabbard.

"It is a wand holder, Harry Potter, meant to be worn around the waist," Dobby explained. Harry slipped it around his waist and sheathed his wand, reassured.

"Lastly," Dobby said, and handed Harry a small plain black box, the size of Harry's palm. It was the shape of a tiny trunk with no key lock. Harry looked at Dobby quizzically. "Tap it with your wand," Dobby said. Harry did and found that it expanded to a small sort of trunk. "When you is hungry, open the box and say what food you is wanting. Dobby got the box from Master Draco, but now it's connected to Dobby's friends at Hogwarts. We will know when you is wanting something." At Harry's amazed look, Dobby beamed and said, "Try it, Harry Potter sir."

Harry opened the box to find it empty inside. Timidly, he said, "Chocolate."

A moment later the box was filled to the brim with every kind of chocolate imaginable, Wizarding and Muggle alike, with chocolate frogs bouncing on top. "Wow," Harry said as he caught one, shoving it in his mouth and realising how hungry he was.

Dobby beamed at him. "When Harry Potter is finished, he must just say so and the food will clear."

A moment later Harry took from the box a chicken sandwich, a bowl of salad, a pot of chocolate ice cream and a spoon and fork. He then shut the box, shrank it, and slipped it into his pocket as he quickly ate his meal. Dobby watched him happily.

When Harry was finished, he gave a sigh of relief. He smiled at Dobby. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would do without that."

"Dobby is always willing to help Harry Potter sir, whenever he needs. Is Harry Potter wanting anything else before Dobby leaves?"

Harry shook his head and adjusted his cloak. He was much warmer now, and realised the cloak had warming spells attached to it. "No, that's all. Just try to get my message to Remus."

"Goodbye, Harry Potter sir. Dobby will find Harry Potter when he has contacted Remus Lupin."

"Thanks, Dobby. Good bye."

Another _Pop_ and Harry was alone again. This time, however, he was clothed and warm with a full stomach, albeit weak from the effects of his earlier spell. However, the food had revived some of Harry's energy and all he needed now was some kind of sign that it was safe to search for Greyback. Yet, when no ideas came to him, Harry cast a disillusionment charm over himself, shuddering at the feeling of an egg being cracked over his head, and followed the familiar path through the gardens that would take him back into the forest.


End file.
